When She Falls
by shipatfirstsight
Summary: He never lets her go, and she can't help but fall. A Klaroline one-shot.


**Requested by my lovely sister Jordan (tattooed-she-wolf). Happy early birthday! I hope you enjoy the smut. (To clarify, there's no baby in this because my sister said she wasn't about that.)**

**Klaroline with a bit of friendship Klefaroline.**

**Rated M**

**I do not own the Vampire Diaries, or the characters herein. **

* * *

When it's happening, she can't bring herself to remember why she wasn't supposed to want this. He kisses her like… like she's everything to him, and it's easy to forget. She is lost to his kisses, his breath mixing with hers, the press of his body grinding into hers. She can't remember why she resisted for so long.

It's only after, after he's gone and she's forced to _think_ again, think about her actions and the consequences, that she almost feels a twinge of guilt.

But she can't make herself feel sorry for something that felt so good.

She struggles though, between happiness and feeling like she _should _feel sorry.

It's only when Tyler finds out that she feels a hint of remorse.

Not for what she did, and that does make her feel guilty, but that Tyler was hurt for her happiness. She never wanted him to be hurt.

But she didn't act with him in mind; she acted… impulsively, and she enjoyed it. She will not feel guilty for enjoying it.

But Caroline presses on, she always does; she has a life, responsibilities, _things_ she wants to do. She will not remember the heat of his body on hers. She will not remember how much she wanted him. She will not remember how she cried out his name over and over and over again. She will not remember the kisses he left over every inch of her skin as though to brand himself into her very being…

No.

She will not remember those things she decides.

(Except for in very private, lonely moments, with the heat between her thighs begging her to find the one who gave her such sweet release, and she tries to get rid of the feeling by pleasuring herself with the thought of her hands being _his _but its not enough and more and more on those nights she wants _him_ but she can't call him to come here not after his promise and her damnable pride won't let her go to him…)

There's other issues at hand anyways, more important than her love life. Katherine's continued presence for one.

(She will not admit that she was upset when she found out mostly because _Katherine _had been nice to her. It had been the first time in years that she felt like she was talking to the Elena she once knew. No. She will not admit that a part of her wants to keep Katherine around.)

And of course they find a way to save Elena. Don't they always? But again, it's at the cost of someone else's life.

This time, Caroline can't forgive the price Damon decided was okay to pay.

She ignores her friends. When they call to try and apologize. She doesn't want to hear it.

She let's Stefan hold her at the funeral though, as they lower her mother's casket into the ground.

He doesn't make excuses.

Liz isn't buried in Mystic Falls, though.

(Caroline couldn't bury her in the place where she died.)

She's buried in the cemetery close to Whitmore.

Caroline is only half surprised when she feels his eyes on her. She looks at Stefan questioningly, knowing that Klaus' presence could only be because of him.

In her grief, she hadn't even remembered him.

"I thought you could use a friend." Is Stefan's only answer, and she nods, wipes a few stray tears away, and turns, running into his ever-waiting arms.

He doesn't make excuses either, because for once she can't blame him at all for the pain in her life.

(But who should she blame? Katherine, Damon, Elena, Bonnie, Tyler? She's glad Stefan had no part in their plans. She's glad Klaus didn't either. She doesn't know what she would have done if she had lost everyone.)

He just holds her as the priest goes on, holds her long after everyone else but Stefan has left. He lets her cry all over his shirt.

And he never lets go of her.

* * *

When it's dark and her tears have finally quieted some, the three of them sit on the ground.

(Klaus keeps an arm wrapped around her body. She's not sure, but she reads a kind of fear in his eyes. Is he scared of what she will do if he lets go?)

Stefan produces a bottle of bourbon, and they drink to her mom, taking turns passing the bottle around.

"You didn't have to come." Caroline mumbles at some point, but her hands grip his shirt tighter, daring him to try and leave her.

"Yes I did." Is his only response for a moment. "If you had buried her in Mystic Falls, I still would have come. Some things are more important than promises."

His unspoken _You're more important than that promise_ hangs in the air between them, and she nods. "I'm glad you're here."

She's quiet for a long while after that, taking a sip of the alcohol every time either Klaus or Stefan press it into her hands. She finally breaks down once more. "I don't- I don't know how-"

Arms encircle her waist, and she finds herself lifted up and deposited in her favorite hybrid's lap. He doesn't allow her time to question him, merely squeezes her to his chest, his hands running soothing circles on her back.

(She can't think. She can't breathe. Somewhere between missing her mom and anger at the people she once called friends, she's reacting to this new side of Klaus and it scares her because she can feel the emotions building up in her, threatening to spill over.)

"You live. You keep on living, love. It hurts, it might always hurt, but she would want you to live."

_How can I live when I'm already dead_? She almost asks, because for the first time in a long time she feels less alive. But she recognizes what he's saying, and so she holds her tongue. She is immortal.

Her mother was bound to die eventually (never killed by her friends though, that wasn't supposed to happen; she was supposed to die old and happy in her bed, not as some sort of sacrifice to get Elena back). It was okay for it to hurt. But she couldn't stop living.

* * *

When she wakes, she realizes that she must have fallen asleep in his arms. She doesn't remember how she ended up in a bed.

(Not the bed in her house, for which she is grateful; she isn't sure she's ready to go there with so many memories of her mother. Not her dorm bed either, for which she is also grateful; she isn't sure she wants to ever face her old friends again, not even to be in the space they inhabit.)

Unconsciously, she curls tighter into the male arms that hold her. Klaus' arms, she processes.

(She'd remember the feel of them anywhere.) She cracks her eyes open, raises a hand to wipe the sleep away, and looks into his face. He offers her a smile before lowering his head to place a tender kiss on her brow. "'Morning, sweetheart."

She stretches lazily in his arms, working out the kinks from sleep (she still thinks vampirism should be a bit more comfortable—if it wasn't for the blood lust and the 'kill innocent people' urges, she swore that sometimes she could actually forget she was a vampire). She feels his body responding under hers, certain parts of his anatomy hardening as she moved against him. She smirks up at him this time, moving to crawl up his body, maybe place a kiss on his lips and- see where things went.

(If the last time was any indication, they wouldn't stop at kissing.)

But he doesn't let her move, merely shots his eyes to the side. She looks over where he indicated quickly, surprised to see Stefan passed out on another bed.

She sighs quietly, internally cursing Klaus for not having the fortitude to get two rooms. But then she feels bad, because obviously they're both very worried about her. And then she remembers that her mother is dead. She sobers quickly, trying to will away the heat coiling in her lower belly. One, she doesn't want grief sex. Two, she's _not _having sex with Stefan in the next bed.

She can't exactly control herself with Klaus moving inside of her, and there's no way she's chancing her friend waking up to them doing the dirty because of her inability to control the volume of her voice.

So she rolls off of him, but presses her body against his side.

"How are you feeling today?" He whispers.

She shrugs. "I miss her, but…." She trails off, not wanting to admit the next part, but she does anyway. "It's better with you here."

He can't completely hide the smile her words bring.

* * *

Later, once Stefan is awake and they've all had some blood (though Klaus glares at the blood bag she offers him, he still takes it), Caroline remembers that he has a life too. A life that he put on hold for a moment for her, but a life that he undoubtedly has to get back to.

She steals herself for this, but when they get to the parking lot and she sees Stefan's car next to Klaus', the reality crashes down, and her tears well up once more. She finds her head buried against his chest once more, not completely sure how she got there, and she curses herself for being such a sobbing mess.

"Caroline? Caroline!" He yells, and she nearly jumps, but the shock of his voice (not angry, just loud) is enough to calm her tears. He pushes her back from him to look at her with concern. "What's wrong, love? Do you need more time, we can go back to the cemetery—"

"I'm not ready for you to go too." She whispers, interrupting him.

Stefan chuckles under his breath, and she turns to glare at him, but this only causes him to laugh more (she is almost glad to see him happy again; or, she would be if she wasn't fighting the urge to punch him). "And you thought she would be glad to see you go." He chokes out, and Caroline turns back to Klaus, anger and confusion warring within her. His mouth is open though, in shock, and he doesn't seem able to bring himself to speak.

"Would one of you idiots tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Klaus wasn't sure how we'd convince you to leave with us!" Stefan says when his laughter quiets some.

_Leave?_

_Us?_

"What?" She asks, in a daze.

Klaus shakes himself, closes his mouth. "Stefan and I didn't think it was a good idea for you to stay in Virginia. Not when you could—not after what happened. So we thought we'd get you out of here." He pauses, trying to gauge her reaction, before rushing to say, "But only if you want to."

She nods slowly, processing.

"I don't want to stay here." She finally gets out. And she lets go of _everything_ she'd been holding so tightly to.

* * *

Stefan agrees to meet up with them later. He has to get some of his things, and all of Caroline's things.

"Just get me a picture of my mom." She orders.

She finds she doesn't care that her makeup is ruined or that she's wearing the same outfit she wore the day before or that her hair is a mess. Klaus still looks at her like she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

* * *

New Orleans is nice, in theory. There's a war going on though, and Klaus becomes almost unbearably overprotective.

(She likes learning all the little new parts of his character though, even when his constant need to hover like a mother hen pisses her off.)

Caroline grows to hate witches and their constant meddling. (Okay, one or two of them aren't half bad, but the majority hate her on sight and she's been given one too many fucking aneurysms to feel anything but loathing for them.)

It's nice to have Stefan there with her though, even when him and Marcel start battling for _Rebekah's _affections. Caroline can tell that although the other blond pretends to hate the fighting, she's secretly enjoying the fighting being over her for once.

The other originals aren't that bad though, she supposes. Elijah is full of manners and every time Klaus does something stupid, he makes his brother apologize. Rebekah, while her attitude towards Caroline remains the same, decides that they should be friends, and so when Klaus and Stefan and Elijah and Marcel have their hands full, the girls go shopping and get their nails done. Of course, sometimes they ignore the warnings of the men in their life and join the fighting themselves.

Though that seems to be what will be the cause of the men's death, worry for them.

They bond over that too, rolling their eyes and mocking 'their' men for being so stupid. They know how to fight.

That's when Klaus decides that instead of prohibiting Caroline from fighting, he should teach her. It doesn't make him any less worried, but it gives him some piece of mind. Caroline beams, knowing that she won the argument.

She moves into his room after that, and they sleep together for the first time since Liz died nearly four months before. And not just sleep either.

She goes to his room late at night, clad only in one of his shirts that she stole. While her legs distract him, she slyly throws what she'd been holding in her hand at him. He catches the piece of fabric though, his instincts kicking in even in his addled state.

(She's pleased she can still affect him so much; she once thought he only wanted her for the chase, but more and more it's become clear that he just always wanted _her_ just as she always wanted _him_.)

He quirks an eyebrow at the thong in his hand, and she smiles at him, giving him what she hopes is a 'come hither' look.

And come hither he does.

She finds her body trapped between his and the door, a dark passion growing in his eyes. But this simply won't do. She wants to be in control this time; he had his chance, and she came here to seduce him, not to be seduced. So she pushed him back, again and again until the backs of his legs hit the edge of his mattress, and he goes down on his back willingly. He props himself up on his elbows though as she stands looking down on him. She bites her lip, looking down on him in pretend contemplation.

"I wonder where I should start," She breathes.

She rips his shirt down the middle. "Oops." She says unapologetically as she divests him of the broken fabric. "My hand must have slipped."

He laughs slightly, and she can't stop her mouth from trying to capture the sound. She loves the sound and wants it to be a part of her always. She slips her tongue between his lips, and _oh_ oh she's lost.

They're kissing and she's lost and they're desperate, hungry for each other. His hands tangle in her hair, drawing her closer and closer, and she's glad she doesn't have to breathe because she doesn't ever want to part her lips from his, not when his tongue is moving in tandem with his hips. His pants are still on, and she doesn't know why because she wants them _off_, but he's doing such wonderful things, his hardening length pressed through the fabric to her bare core.

There's a fire in her belly and a wetness spreading between her thighs, and she bites his lip when he stops her hands from stripping him of his pants. He chuckles into her mouth and she's never been like _this _before, never felt like she was having fun while she was having sex.

She finally, _finally_, presses her hand to him, and he jerks, unable to stifle a moan. He breaks his lips from hers, and they're both breathing heavily, but they smile at each other. Gently, so, so gently, he lifts his shirt off over her head. He flings I t somewhere to the side, his gaze fixed on her. _All of her._ Her face, her chest, the scar on her side from the time she fell in the lake and landed on a rock, and he takes it all in. His eyes don't stay anywhere for long, and she pulls and prods his hands until finally he's touching her.

He runs his hands lovingly up her neck, into her hair, and though she wants him inside of her already, she lets him go slow for now, because she can tell by his movements that he's wanted to do this for a long time. He runs his finger through her hair, letting the strands fall away. He pulls her mouth to his once more. One, two, three soft kisses there, his teeth tugging her bottom lip on the last kiss.

She wants more. She wants all of him. She drags her nails down his chest, her impatience getting the best of her. He smiles at her; not a smirk or a sneer or a look of triumph. A real, genuine, heartfelt smile that spoke of all the love he could not yet voice.

He lays her down tenderly, hovering over her. He guides her hands to his jeans, and she eagerly pushes them, and his briefs, down.

When he enters her, he is gentle, moving in slow, languid strokes, but he fills her up more and more each time. Her hips rock and she clutches his to her, trying to get him deeper and deeper, and his motions become less precise as he works her towards ecstasy, not letting himself come before she does.

And it's too much. She can feel everything she fought for so long bubbling in her, all the feelings and emotions.

When she falls, he catches her.

**FIN**

**A/N: Un'betad so I apologize for any errors, grammatical or otherwise.**


End file.
